


Yours

by ragingrainbow



Series: 100 Kinks Challenge [4]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Collars, Come Marking, Dom/sub, Dominant Scott, Hand Jobs, In Public, M/M, Mirrors, Submission, Submissive Mitch, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: Mitch feels more settled than he perhaps ever has when he wears Scott’s collar, and it’s that realization that makes him sidle up to Scott this morning to ask permission to wear the collar on their Starbucks run. 

  “Huh,” is Scott’s immediate response. He looks surprised, and a little like he has a few objections brewing, so Mitch hurries to explain himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 100 kinks challenge, prompt #36: Against the wall.
> 
> Betad by silentdescant.
> 
> Crossposted to [Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/322241340-100-kinks-challenge-~-scomiche-yours).

Mitch spends more time wearing the collar than he spends out of it for the next two days, purely by his own choice. Oh, he can tell Scott enjoys it, especially when he casually slips in a _Sir_ and Scott’s eyes darken to dusky blue. Scott’s settling into his role slowly - his willingness to control when and how Mitch orgasms has been a pleasant surprise - but he’s not yet comfortable demanding Mitch’s submission for things other than sex. Mitch hopes that will change. For now, Scott’s happy to give Mitch whatever Mitch asks for - even the things he doesn’t ask for with words - and Mitch can definitely work with that. 

Mitch didn’t think he’d like the collar this much. It’s not the first time he’s worn a collar for someone - he hasn’t delved far into his own needs, but this was one of the first things he tried - and he could tell from the moment Scott wrapped it around his neck that it’s easier with Scott. He feels like he can really let go with Scott, because Scott knows him better than Mitch knows himself, at times. He already trusts Scott to care for him when he’s incapacitated by anxiety; this feels like a natural progression of that trust. 

Mitch has to admit he was a bit worried about sharing this part of himself with his best friend. He wasn’t worried about being hurt, but of Scott being so careful of hurting him that he wouldn’t be able to accept the role Mitch needs him to take. But Scott’s a natural at taking charge, and Mitch is coming to realize he doesn’t actually need a firm hand to make him submit. What he needs is someone he’s familiar with - and Mitch has never been more comfortable with anyone than he is with Scott. Any hesitation on Scott’s part just serves to remind Mitch that he is safe and loved at Scott’s feet. 

Mitch feels more settled than he perhaps ever has when he wears Scott’s collar, and it’s that realization that makes him sidle up to Scott this morning to ask permission to wear the collar on their Starbucks run. 

“Huh,” is Scott’s immediate response. He looks surprised, and a little like he has a few objections brewing, so Mitch hurries to explain himself. 

“I just, I like the way it feels, like everyone would know your claim on me,” he pauses, for effect, and presses a little closer to Scott so he’s angled in between Scott’s thighs. “They won’t actually know, of course, I _have_ worn a collar in public before, you remember? But it would feel like a declaration. Sir.” 

He knows it’s complete overkill to lay it on this thick, because Scott is obviously going to say yes. Sir is his trumpcard, though, and the way Scott licks his lips and swallows thickly is its own reward. 

“Okay,” Scott says, “go get the collar, wait for me on the bed.” 

Mitch smiles sunnily at him, letting his hand brush against Scott’s on the way past. He feels quite smug about the fact that Scott obviously needs a few moments to get himself together. 

\--- 

Wearing the collar in public is every bit as thrilling as Mitch imagined it would be. He didn’t foresee how _possessive_ it would make Scott, though - he can’t seem to keep his eyes and hands off Mitch all the way there and back. The girl behind the counter at Starbucks looks like she might know who they are, but Mitch can’t be sure; it could also be that she’s trying not to openly stare at the way Scott’s hand is resting on the back of Mitch’s neck - bringing attention to the collar - as he orders for them both. 

When they get home, Mitch isn’t prepared for the way Scott immediately takes the cup out of his hand to put safely on the nearest surface before crowding him up against the wall. He whimpers - a helpless sound he has no control over at all - and Scott grins, authoritative and feral and _perfect_. Mitch swallows the rest of the noises threatening to break free. 

“No,” Scott growls, “let me hear you, pet.” He slides one hand slowly from Mitch’s hip to his throat, wraps it loosely over the collar. He doesn’t apply any pressure at all and it’s still enough to make Mitch gasp for air, lightheaded. 

“Please,” Mitch whines, and it’s ridiculous how quickly Scott can reduce him to a shuddering, begging mess. “ _Please_.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Scott says, and lets up a little so he can spin Mitch around and press himself flush against Mitch’s back. It’s impossible for Mitch to get any friction like this, and he writhes against Scott’s hold, begs in pitiful little whimpers. 

“You’re so hot,” Scott continues, his chin touching the back of Mitch’s neck, stubble causing little pinpricks of sensation. “Wanted you right there, you know, could have pressed you up against the counter and really shown everyone you belong to me. You’d let me, wouldn’t you, _pet_?” 

“Yes, please-- _Sir_ \-- please.” Mitch can picture it, being pressed up against the Starbuck’s counter, Scott at his back as that suspicious barista gawks at them. She’d enjoy it, he thinks; there’d been a definite spark of interest there. 

Scott works a hand in between Mitch and the wall, hitches Mitch’s jeans and underwear down just enough to get a hand on his cock. He grips it tight, just the right side of painful, and starts jerking him off at a quick pace. 

“You’d love it, being shown off like that, might have to gag you though, not sure I want everyone else to hear those pretty noises…” 

Mitch is so close already, he can hear himself whimper desperately but he can’t seem to form any actual words. He presses his cheek to the cool wall, and the sensation barely registers above the desperation coursing through him. 

“That’s it, come for me, pet,” Scott murmurs, leaning in to suck a mark into the skin of his neck, just below the collar. 

Mitch manages to stutter out a _thank you, Sir_ as he comes, giving up that last bit of control. 

Mitch’s still disoriented from his orgasm when Scott turns him around again, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. Mitch doesn’t have the coordination to kiss back, but he opens up to Scott, lets himself be ravaged by Scott’s tongue. 

Mitch is unsteady when the kiss ends, grateful when Scott’s hands on his shoulders push him down on the floor. He turns his face upwards, looks at Scott through half-lidded eyes as he waits for further instruction. 

“Open your mouth, pet,” Scott says, pressing his thumb against Mitch’s lower lip. Mitch opens up obediently, and Scott’s thumb slips into his mouth, hooking over his teeth. Scott’s hand cups his jaw, easily manipulating him into position with his head tilted backwards and his mouth wide open. 

Scott gets his jeans open with his other hand, takes his dick out and aims it at Mitch’s face as he starts jerking off. Mitch whines, overcome with desire to taste, to please. He struggles instinctively against Scott’s hold as his jaw starts to ache. 

“Easy, just hold still for me. Hands behind your back.” 

Mitch relaxes, his hazy mind clinging to Scott’s instruction like a lifeline. He hadn’t been aware of lifting his hands, but he clasps them behind his back again as he sags against Scott’s hold on him. It feels like freedom - knowing he doesn’t need to do anything, knowing he can please Scott just by being still. 

“So good, you’re so good, pet-- I-- _God_ \--” Scott babbles, breaking off on a groan. 

Mitch’s eyes fall closed as the first warm drops of come hit his cheek. He lets Scott turn his head for easier aim, lets Scott mark his face, his throat. 

There is come clinging to his eyelashes when he blinks his eyes open again. He doesn’t wipe it away, because Scott hasn’t said he can move yet. Scott smiles at him, pride and awe in his eyes, and Mitch feels warm all over as he returns the smile. 

“You…” Scott murmurs. He wipes his thumb over Mitch’s cheek, down to his mouth, smearing come over his lips. Mitch sticks his tongue out to lick it off, pleased when Scott’s breath hitches. 

Scott hooks a finger through the ring at the front of Mitch’s collar, tugging at it. “Up.” 

Mitch feels unsteady as he stands, but Scott’s got an arm around him to steady him in an instant. Mitch doesn’t protest when Scott starts leading him upstairs without another word. He’s still in a place where he doesn’t need to question Scott, where he can just go along with whatever Scott wants. He’s still uncoordinated enough that the stairs are a little difficult, but Scott’s there to help, so that’s okay too. 

They end up in Scott’s bedroom, and Mitch is a little confused until they come to a stop in front of Scott’s full-length mirror. Mitch isn’t surprised by this - Scott caught on pretty quickly to the fact that Mitch loves watching himself - but what he is surprised by is how the sight of himself painted with dried come makes him feel so completely _owned_. 

“Please,” he whines, reaching up to touch his own cheek. He’s not sure what he’s begging for. Scott seems to know, judging from the look he gives Mitch through the mirror. 

“Go on,” Scott says, and doesn’t look at all surprised when Mitch sinks to his knees. His hand settles on Mitch’s head, gently petting him. 

Mitch stares at their reflection in the mirror - it makes him breathless how Scott towers over him even though he’s behind Mitch. How Scott - who is usually soft and smiling - looks so casually in control, so authoritative. How his heart stutters when he meets Scott’s gaze in the mirror. Scott’s eyes - his whole demeanor - says _‘mine’_ as clearly as if he had spoken it out loud. 

“Yes,” Mitch whispers, feeling peacefulness wash over him. “ _Yours, Sir._ ”


End file.
